


Your Hands Are Mine to Hold

by griffxnblake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bickering and Banter, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Mistletoe, Moonshine, Romance, all that good christmas fluff stuff, basically the ark never came down and bellarke are coleaders and everything is fine, post season one, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:13:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffxnblake/pseuds/griffxnblake
Summary: After establishing a decent camp and making a treaty with the grounders, Bellamy and Clarke and the rest of the delinquents prepare for their first winter on earth. However, things change a bit when Clarke suggests that maybe it would do everyone some good if they decided to celebrate the old earth holiday called Christmas. Bellamy is not exactly supportive but Clarke ultimately decides that maybe it wouldn't hurt to get him a gift.Cold weather, moonshine, and some misplaced mistletoe...what could possibly happen?
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120
Collections: Bellarke-Mas Secret Santa





	Your Hands Are Mine to Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxawalkinwonderlandxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxawalkinwonderlandxx/gifts).



> So maybe I'm a day late but Merry Belated Christmas if you celebrate it! This is my gift to the lovely xxawalkinwonderlandxx for the Secret Santa exchange! You had such great prompts and as soon as I read them I knew I had to attempt a canon-verse Christmas lol. The prompts I chose were bellarke's first kiss at christmas + some wine and poorly placed mistletoe (not-really-friends to lovers). I hope you like it! <3

Winter arrives much faster than Clarke would have liked.

Of all the times she’s read about winter on earth in classes and such she never realized just how bitterly cold and miserable it could be. 

And it pisses her off even more that she seems to be the only one that really cares if they all freeze their asses off and die before spring.

“We don’t  _ need  _ to spend more time on our border walls, we need to worry about getting warmer clothing and actual walls and roofs to sleep under,” she hisses as she paces around Bellamy’s tent, ignoring the glare he’s currently casting at her.

“I’m not saying those things aren’t important, but we also can’t just forget about them either, Princess.”

She knows they aren’t just going to ignore it, but rationally what good are stronger walls when they already have peace with the grounders and won’t even make it into the new year?

“Of course we’re not, but how do you plan to keep our borders secure when you and the rest of the guards come back crying with frostbite on your asses?”

Bellamy’s scowl turns into a slight smirk and he raises a brow. “Didn’t know you were so worried about my ass, Griffin.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles as she turns away from him, feeling her cheeks heat up despite the piercing chill from the draft coming in. 

She hates when he does that. How is she supposed to win arguments like this and get things done when he tries to distract her with suggestive comments like that?  _ Idiot. _

Bellamy lets out a dramatic sigh and gets up from his makeshift chair, reaching his full height. “Alright, alright, we’ll pull back on the guard patrols. A little. For right now,” he adds. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to spare some more manpower on cabins.”

She sighs in relief, glad that she won’t have to have another screaming match with him over this. While she would secretly admit that sometimes they weren’t so awful, she’s definitely not in the mood today.

“Thank you. And I’ll work on securing some more trading deals with Trikru. Lincoln said they were willing to teach us how to make proper fur cloaks.”

“Good. I expect a good one for Christmas,” he tells her as he makes his way over to the flap of his tent and Clarke lets out a snort. “Now get out. We have cabins to build and whatever else it is we have to do.”

“Whatever you want, Blake.”

She makes her way out as well, watching as Bellamy is already heading toward a group of young men that have already gathered at the entrance of camp, ready to go out on a hunting party.

“And don’t worry, my ass will come back unfrozen and in one piece, just the way you like it!” He calls out, earning a few curious gazes and snickering towards them, and Clarke fights to look as unbothered as possible. 

She scolds herself for the brief thought she has that he’s not wrong. 

So she may be aware that despite being a pain in her ass in the daily, Bellamy is not too bad to look at. It’s just a fact. Everyone in camp would agree. Especially the majority of the female delinquents. So what?

_ Stop it, Clarke. Get it together and stop looking at him. _

She wonders just what exactly she did to deserve a co-leader like Bellamy Blake as she goes on her way toward the medbay, already anticipating another long day ahead of her.

————

Surprisingly enough, Bellamy keeps his word and the older delinquents really rally together to get as many cabins built as they possibly can before the heavier snowfall they all know is coming. Even some of the younger children do their part in helping however they can, and while it can be stressful it’s actually a bit comforting to see everyone working together toward a common goal. Nobody wants to spend the winter shivering in a tent.

Clarke and Lincoln keep their word as well, and soon enough they start adding fur cloaks and blankets to their wardrobes and it makes a hell of a difference compared to their worn and threadbare Ark attire.

“Christmas?”

Clarke nods as she sits at one of their tables with Lincoln and Octavia, who offered to help with some of the pelts today. She sees the furtive glances between the two but pretends she doesn’t, knowing it’s not her business, but she thinks it’s sweet all the same.

“Yeah. It’s one of the religious traditions from before the bombs. It was a Christian holiday, but I wondered if the grounders ever did anything like it,” Clarke explains. She and her family were never religious, but she always did enjoy the stories of families being together and giving each other gifts as a child.

“Not particularly,” he replies, keeping his gaze on the pelt in front of him. “We give our families and chosens gifts when we feel the need, but we don’t have a special day or time for it. We acknowledge the winter solstice and look forward to longer days of sunlight, but that’s it.”

Clarke nods in understanding. She supposes it wouldn’t make much sense to worry about something like that when surviving is at the front of everyone’s minds down here.

“We sorta used to have Christmas,” Octavia says, her voice even as she works. “We never had anything fancy obviously, but Mom tried to do something special for us every year if she could. We’d watch old Christmas movies from the archives and when I was little she’d make me these stuffed toys from scrap pieces of fabric from her job. And Bellamy would tell me some stories and legends about Christmas that he read about. It wasn’t much, but I thought it was great.”

Clarke listens in awe at this small insight into the secret lives of the Blakes. Bellamy never talks about his past or only mentions his family in passing sometimes. They usually just talk about duties that need to be accomplished and the occasional pestering. It’s rarely anything this personal. 

Other than the scandal of having a second child in their family and keeping their secret for all those years before he was demoted from the Guard, she doesn’t really know much about him, which she realizes is a shame considering they do spend a significant amount of time together. It’s actually kind of nice to know something new about him, making her feel like she’s found out some precious piece of information.

Not that she needs to know about him, she reminds herself. The past doesn’t matter when it comes to keeping them all alive. Right. It’s just curiosity.

“That sounds really nice, Octavia,” Clarke says softly, trying to imagine the Blakes as young children. She wonders if Bellamy smiled more back then, or was he always so stoic and grumpy? 

The other girl doesn’t reply, and they all continue with their task.

————

“Are you serious?”

Okay, maybe this wasn’t Clarke’s best idea, but she wanted to at least try.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“We’ve all been running around trying to make sure we don’t freeze to death and you want us to waste time on something like Christmas?” he asks incredulously.

“Exactly, and you and everyone’s been doing such a good job that maybe it would be nice to have something to look forward to.”

“Thanks, but not dying and living to see spring are enough for me,” Bellamy deadpans.

“You said you wanted a fur cloak for Christmas,” she argues.

“I was joking! I mean, I do want one, but it doesn’t have to be a  _ Christmas _ gift,” he adds, and she raises a brow.

“Just think about it, alright? It might cheer everyone up a little bit around here. Like your sister,” Clarke adds pointedly.

She can see the muscles in Bellamy’s jaw set and his eyes narrow. “What did she tell you?”

“That it used to be a special time for your family, that’s all.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead turning away from her where they stand in his tent and fiddling with the lantern he has set up on his small table, illuminating his silhouette against the beige canvas.

“Whatever. Do whatever you want,” he says, clearly ending the conversation and obviously dismissing her.

She leaves it at that, not wanting to push things any further, and leaves the tent. She pretends not to feel the knot that has suddenly formed in her stomach.

————

Christmas ends up being even more popular than Clarke imagines, and within days the entire camp is brimming with more excitement than its usual sense of apprehension and dread. The kids are telling each other stories and traditions that they may have heard about the holiday and some of the older kids are talking about what they can give to the younger ones to make them even more excited. It warms Clarke’s heart that even delinquents can find it in their hearts to get into the giving spirit. At the end of the day, they are each other’s families now.

Well, almost the entire camp is excited about it.

She hasn’t spoken to Bellamy since that evening in his tent when she introduced the idea and she figures he’s upset and avoiding her.

Which she doesn’t understand. So what if she wanted to give them something to look forward to for once? She honestly thought he’d be on board with it, considering she’s seen how kind and caring he can be with the younger kids. She’s not sure how he can see this as her doing some awful thing to warrant this kind of cold shoulder.

“It’s because Bellamy doesn’t know how to just be happy about something,” Octavia tells her one morning after telling the younger girl her concerns. “He’ll get over it and come around and start talking to you again. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Clarke mumbles as she takes a bite of her morning apple. “I just don’t want him to ruin it for anyone else.”

Octavia raises a brow, clearly not buying it. “Yeah. Sure, Griffin.”

Clarke doesn’t bother to give a further response. She’s not worried about Bellamy. Really, she isn’t. At least not particularly, not about him not talking to her. She’s fine with it. It’s given her more time to get things done. It’s amazing how productive she can be when there isn’t someone questioning or challenging her every move. Even if it was  _ slightly  _ entertaining once in a while.

But she most certainly wouldn’t go as far as to say she  _ misses him  _ or something. No. Definitely not.

“Are you getting him anything for Christmas?” She asks, hoping to steer the conversation away from herself and the younger girl nods in reply.

“Yeah, actually. It was always really hard for me to do anything special for him when we were growing up. But now I finally can. Lincoln’s been helping me but I’m making him a pair of fur-lined gloves. He’s always rubbing his hands together to keep warm.”

Clarke blinks, tilting her head slightly and nodding in approval. That’s a good gift. Logical. Especially with how much time Bellamy spends working outside.

“That’s a great idea, Octavia. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Yep. Are  _ you  _ getting him anything?” she asks, leaning forward on the table closer as if they’re sharing some prime bit of gossip.

Clarke lets out a scoff. “As if he would accept anything I gave him.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Clarke gives the younger Blake an annoyed look. “No.”

Clearly disappointed, Octavia leans back and rolls her eyes. “Jeez. The both of you are just…” 

She doesn’t finish the thought, instead picking up what little was left of her rations and leaves Clarke with an unenthusiastic wave, scarily resembling her older brother as she does so.

She doesn’t see why Octavia would have any reason to be upset. She and Bellamy aren’t exactly friends, merely co-leaders who tolerate each other to get things done to keep them all alive. And Octavia is already getting Bellamy a gift, so it’s not as if he’ll be empty handed on Christmas.

(She tries to forget the whispers and mumbling she’s heard from Bree and Roma and several other girls around camp talking about what to get Bellamy for Christmas. It actually makes her inwardly cringe when she remembers some of the things she’d heard and did her best to block them from memory.)

But… maybe she should try to get him something? 

Definitely not the types of things his former  _ companions _ were talking about, though. No. Definitely not.

He  _ is  _ her co-leader, after all. And they do spend a good portion of their time together. Maybe she could just get him something small, something to show her appreciation for how much he’s been doing for everyone.

_ And her. _

She thinks back on the last several months and how it seems as though their sharp encounters have softened a bit since they first made it to the ground.

How Bellamy sometimes brings her some rations when she’s overworked in medbay. 

How that one time Bellamy walked into her tent to find her crying from the pressure of everything and missing her parents and he sat there beside her until she calmed down and offered some short, albeit reassuring, words. 

How he's been working so hard to get more cabins built, only coming in to eat and rest when he’s practically dead on his feet.

The whole point of bringing Christmas to the camp was to cheer everyone up and strengthen their bond and unify them more, right? She supposes it would be hypocritical to not partake in the festivities by not getting something for Bellamy. And what was the worst that could happen? 

Right. Now with that settled, Clarke is determined to get Bellamy Blake a nice gift before it’s too late.

————

The next few days are a bit of a blur.

Along with her usual responsibilities, Clarke has been trying to figure out what and how she can get a gift for Bellamy in time for Christmas.

She thought of maybe getting him a knife, but something about that just felt too casual and not very personal. She knows Bellamy already has half a dozen knives anyway.

Maybe a new coat? His guard jacket is looking a bit more worn lately and she knows it’s not made to fight the cold winters on earth. Yes. Maybe she’s onto something now. 

He did say he wanted a new cloak. Now she just needs to figure out how to get one. Lincoln is probably going to be her best bet.

Which is why she arranges to meet with the grounder as soon as possible. Luckily she doesn’t have to wait too long because she knows he’s almost always at camp checking in with Octavia.

When she tells him of her plan, he merely gives her a curious look which she isn’t too fond of.

“You want a whole fur cloak. In the next few days. For Bellamy.”

Clarke doesn’t challenge or correct him, merely nodding. “Is it possible or not? I have some hand-drawn maps I can trade for it. I know Indra finds them valuable.”

She pulls a book out of her bag, and opens it to where she keeps the maps folded and flattened. Lincoln takes them carefully and assesses them, looking over the finely drawn details and glances back up at her.

“I’ll see what I can do. Can you meet me back here in three days?”

She lets out a soft sigh of relief and nods.

“Three days. Of course.”

————

Lincoln is actually a saint, Clarke realizes. Just like she hoped for, Lincoln meets her at their rendezvous spot, box under his arm, and presents her with the fur cloak she requested.

“Indra was very appreciative of the maps you sent,” he tells her. “And when I told her you wanted this for Bellamy, she was more than happy to oblige.”

“Really?” Clarke asks, not exactly familiar with the Indra who seems to be  _ happy  _ about anything.

“Of course. He’s Octavia’s brother and your esteemed co-leader. She thinks it’s a fine gift for someone to give to their chosen.”

Lincoln says this right as he was handing her the box and she almost drops it.

“To give to their  _ what?” _

“Their chosen. I think you call them ‘partners’?”

Oh.

“He’s my partner but we’re not  _ chosens,”  _ she quickly corrects him, feeling her face grow warm. “Those can be different things.”

Lincoln merely looks confused but doesn’t press on about the subject. Did he really think that was what they were? Is that what Indra really thinks? God.

“Oh. I see.” 

Clarke gives him an awkward nod and tight smile, adjusting her grip on the box in her arms. 

“Thank you again for this, Lincoln. I know it was short notice.”

“Not a problem. I hope he enjoys the gift for your holiday.”

“Thank you. I hope he does, too.”

On the trek back home, Clarke does her best to forget about what Lincoln had said, and instead focuses on how she’s going to be able to present Bellamy with her gift when he’s clearly working hard to avoid her lately.

————

It’s finally the day they all agreed to deem Christmas Eve and the campfires glow brightly against the darkening skies as the festivities get into full swing and Clarke can’t recall seeing the camp look so warm and inviting.

Raven and Monty had taken it upon themselves to create more lanterns and some string lights and they were hung along trees and cabins and anything one could fasten them too, giving the camp a soft, almost romantic, glow. 

Along with the lights, there was a tree erected right in the middle of camp, decorated with whatever the kids could find which, from what Clarke could see, were random pieces of metal and fabrics. She thinks she can even see what is supposed to be a star at the very top.

And never being ones to miss a good opportunity, Monty and Jasper had also managed to come up with a new batch of what they called  _ Merry Moonshine _ that they practically shoved into everyone’s hands and Clarke was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t as god-awful as some of their previous concoctions. She can actually taste something like berries, giving it a sweet flavor.

She wanders around, checking in with everyone, making sure no one has been left out, and they all seem to be rather content despite the cold. This is what she wanted, she muses as she hears laughter fill the camp: something they could actually enjoy, for once. Something to remind them that there’s more than just the daily fight for survival. That despite everything they’ve been through, they have a family now.

She feels warm and content in a way that she hasn’t in quite some time, but there’s still something missing. 

Her eyes eventually land on a figure leaning against one of the nearby cabins, drink in hand, and she pads over the thin layer of snow toward him, the crunching under her boots alerting him to her arrival.

“Having fun?” Bellamy asks, tipping the cup towards his lips.

She nods, glancing out toward where groups of delinquents are huddled together and celebrating. “It’s nice to see them having a good time.”

“Why aren't you out there having a good time with them, then?”

“Why aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer for several moments, but takes another drink, still not meeting her eyes.

“I’m fine on my own.”

She looks down at her cup, noting that she’s almost done, and brushes her finger along the rim of it. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

He shakes his head. “You’re fine, Princess.”

They remain in a companionable silence for a few minutes, watching some of the children start a snowball fight in the firelight and some of the older ones dancing around and tripping over themselves in laughter. Some of them are coupled up and cuddling with their heads leaning close together and it makes Clarke feel a little lonely.

She’s pulled from her thoughts when one of the kids runs past them, pointing toward something above them and snickering.

“Mistletoe! You know what that means!”

A few of the nearby kids stop to look toward them, and Clarke suddenly feels like a deer caught in a corner. She glances up, seeing the little bundle of leaves and berries that someone must have attached to the small awning of the cabin, and looks at Bellamy.

She remembers this particular tradition from the old movies and stories.

He looks a bit caught off guard as well, the firelight just barely illuminating what she thinks is a blush on his freckled skin. 

The kids watch them expectantly, whispering among themselves, and Clarke is about to tell them to beat it when she suddenly feels a hand on her wrist.

She meets his eyes, looking softer than she’s seen them in quite some time, and she suddenly feels much warmer. 

Maybe it’s the moonshine, but she suddenly feels brave, and raises a brow, challenging him to continue.

“It’s tradition, right?” he asks, the familiar smirk forming on his lips and amusement in his eyes.

“Right. Tradition.”

The moment just before it happens feels like an eternity, Bellamy hesitating for another moment just in case she changes her mind. When she says nothing and gives a slight nod, his lips are on hers and the rest of the world melts away. 

His lips are softer than she ever imagined, but he moves with such purpose and experience that causes her to part her lips and gasp into the kiss.

She can feel his hand move to gently hold the back of her neck, his thumb brushing against her jaw. She can taste the sweetness of the moonshine on his tongue but something else as well, something that she realizes is just  _ Bellamy _ and she’s quickly becoming addicted to it.

All too soon it’s over and they part slightly to catch their breaths. She can hear some whoops and cheers from somewhere near them, causing them both to smile and Clarke thinks she lets out something like a giggle.

He smirks, his lips red and kiss-swollen, and starts to pull his hand back, gently brushing his thumb against her bottom lip as he does so, and part of her wants to beg for him to put it back.

But the moment passes and she clears her throat, trying to look as composed as possible. This is Bellamy. Her co-leader. Her sometimes almost-friend. And now her...something.

It’s the moonshine. Definitely the moonshine.

“Not bad, Princess.”

“Not bad? That’s it?” she asks, raising a brow. Not that she thought she was an expert, but she thinks that kiss was at least better than  _ not bad. _

He chuckles and his smile almost stuns her. “C’mon. I want to show you something.”

His hand moves back to her wrist like before, and she nods, letting him lead her. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see in a minute.”

“You’re not going to murder me in the woods on Christmas, are you?”

“And ruin the holiday? Of course not.”

There are some wolf-whistles as they leave the edge of the main gathering area, guaranteeing that Clarke’s cheeks are officially scarlet now, but at least Bellamy can’t see as he leads her to what looks like his tent.

Her heartbeat quickens suddenly at the realization.

When they get there, Bellamy opens the flap of the tent to let her enter first and he follows after, going to a trunk he has near his cot. He rummages through it for a moment before turning back around with a bundle in his hands.

He suddenly appears hesitant, his stance more rigid than before and she thinks she can see his jaw tense before holding it out towards her. “It’s for you.”

For  _ her _ ? He got her a gift? For Christmas? 

She steps forward and carefully takes it from his hands, glancing up at him to find his expression unreadable.

The parcel is a bit heavier than she expects, and when she unwraps the canvas he’s kept it in, she gasps.

The white, almost silver fur is striking, and when she unfolds it completely, she realizes what it is: a hooded scarf, lined with soft material that she can easily fasten to her jacket. 

She can’t believe it.

It’s too much.

“Bellamy, I…”

“Do you like it?”

She’s still in shock, marveling over how soft and warm the fur feels under her fingers. “Bellamy, it’s amazing. But how did you—“

He finally smiles now, in his familiar cocky fashion. “I know a guy. Can’t have the Princess catching her death out in the snow, can we?”

She’s overwhelmed with the sudden wave of affection she has for him, and it might not only be brought on from the moonshine. She feels a few tears sting the corners of her eyes but she quickly blinks them back. 

“I love it, I really do. It’s perfect.”

He gestures for her to hand it over, and he steps a bit closer to her, setting the hood over her head and fastening the scarf around her shoulders. The weight of the fur is warm and a few pieces tickle her skin as she looks up at Bellamy, whose eyes are shining in amusement. 

“There. You look like a proper princess now. Maybe even a queen.”

She lets out a breathy laugh and rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe you did this. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with Christmas this year. I thought you were mad at me,” she admits.

“I was at first,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But you had a point. We should have something to look forward to.”

“Why were you mad then?”

“It just brought back a lot of memories. Ones that I didn’t really want to think about, I guess,” he admits softly. Clarke reaches for his hand, and he’s warm. He’s always warm, it seems.

“I get that,” she starts, blue eyes meeting brown as she looks up at him through her lashes. “But maybe we can make new memories now, on the ground. Nice ones.”

He gives a slight nod before his lips curve up slightly. “Like the mistletoe one?”

She blushes, but a smile etches itself on her features. “Yeah. Like that.”

Something flashes in his eyes, and his hand comes up to push a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, and Clarke shivers at the feel of his rough pads of his fingers on her skin.

But then she remembers. 

“C’mon. I want to show you something, too.”

His eyes widen in confusion - and maybe disappointment? - but he lets her take his hand and lead him outside and toward her tent.

When he seems to realize where they’re going, she can hear him chuckle behind her. “You know, we could have just stayed back at my place, right?”

She rolls her eyes but still can’t help the warmth that spreads throughout her as she hears the suggestive tone in his voice. “I really do have something to give you, asshole.”

“An actual  _ thing  _ or you just wanted to—“

She pulls him into her tent and immediately goes over to her cot, where she has a box tucked underneath and pulls it out toward the center of the space. She looks back toward Bellamy, nodding toward the box.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

Looking skeptical, he inches toward the box, kneeling down to unclip the latch. When he opens it and pulls out the large garment, she thinks she can hear him gasp softly.

The cloak flows out in front of him as he stands up to see the whole thing, and Clarke is relieved to see just how much the dark fur cloak suits his tan skin and dark curls.

“Clarke...you—“

“You said to get you a good one for Christmas, remember?”

He stands up, cloak still in his hands when he turns and sets his gaze on her, wide and unrecognizable. There’s a softness in them she’s never quite seen before, along with something else that resembles the way he looked at her back under the mistletoe. Her heart is beating so quickly she can feel it in her ears.

“You did this. For me.”

It’s not a question, she realizes. Just a clarification. Either way, she gives a slight nod before looking down at the ground, toeing the dirt with her boots.

“Well, I mean...you’ve been working so hard, doing so much for everyone. And you’re always outside and let’s be honest, if you freeze and die I’m going to have to do everything around here and then who’s going to give me a hard time about everything—“

Dropping the cloak back into the box, he closes the distance between them and suddenly he’s cradling her head, pressing his lips to hers and she releases something of a moan and gasp into his mouth.

This kiss is definitely more urgent, more deliberate than the one under the mistletoe, and Clarke realizes she can be more bold now that they don’t have an audience. 

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to her as she deepens the kiss. When her fingers find a few stray curls and she pulls slightly, she can feel the vibration of Bellamy’s resulting growl against her lips and where his chest is pressed against hers.

His hands move down her sides and plant themselves firmly on her hips as he guides her back toward her bed, a whimper leaving her lips when the back of her legs bump into it. She gets the hint and pulls him down, never disconnecting their lips in the process.

Whatever chill she might have felt in her tent is long gone as his hands move up her sides, back down to her legs and over her thighs, but she frowns when he suddenly still and pulls back.

His lips are kiss-swollen and hair tousled from running her fingers through it, his eyes dark but wide as he looks at her.

She finds herself panting to catch her breath.

“Why’d you stop?” she asks breathily, still leaning back on her elbows from how he had her.

“I just...I didn’t know if you wanted—“ he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked from what they’ve done.

She blinks. Bellamy Blake, the guy who’s shared his bed with countless others and made sure it wasn’t a secret, stopping to talk instead of asking questions later? 

“And if I did want to?”

He raises his brows. “You don’t have to just because I—“

“Bellamy.” 

She sits up properly now and reaches for him, her hand cupping his cheek and her thumb tracing the edge of his mouth. When she’s this close to him, she can see even more freckles that dust his skin and it causes a wave of affection to wash over her. She wishes she had seen them sooner.

“I want to. There’s no other reason besides that.”

The intensity in his warm dark eyes startles and excites and comforts her all at once. She thinks she can see the moment he finally makes the realization.

“Good.”

Everything after that is an exciting and blissful blur.

————

Rare beams of sunlight flood in through the sliver of space between the flaps of Clarke’s tent the next morning and the sound of someone calling out is what ultimately wakes her.

Her cot is small, large enough only for one person really, so right away she’s aware of the warm weight that’s enveloping her under her blankets.

Bellamy’s arm tightens around her as her back is pressed to his front, both squeezing in to fit on her cot. She can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, his skin against hers keeping her warm in a way her meager blankets never could.

His breath tickles the back of her neck and she smiles when she places her hand on his arm.

“Bell… Bellamy,” she whispers, gently prodding him.

He lets out a grunt and she smirks, trying to turn around under his arm. She realizes her pillow is softer than usual, and sees that at some point they must have grabbed the hooded scarf he gifted her and used it for extra warmth and comfort. The fur cloak had also been pulled onto the bed as an extra blanket, it seems.

“Too early,” she hears him grumble now that she can finally get a better look at him. 

His curls are even messier than usual, falling over his eyes, and it looks like he may even have more freckles than she was able to see last night under the glow of the lanterns and candles. 

“It’s Christmas,” she reminds him softly, pressing closer to him, partly so she doesn’t fall off and partly because she wants to chase the warmth his skin provides. He lets out a groan of approval at that.

“Still too early,” he replies, his voice low and thick with sleep which sends another wave of arousal and affection surging through her.

She chuckles and brushes her lips against his jaw. “You sure about that?”

He finally cracks an eye open and lightly pinches her skin. “Brat,” he says with a smirk and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t seem to mind me so much last night.”

“Because you  _ lured _ me into bed with gifts,” he quips and Clarke flushes pink.

“I didn’t plan on—“

He quiets her with a kiss and she lets out a squeak in surprise. “I know. Don’t worry, Princess.”

She opens her mouth to reply when she’s suddenly cut short again, but this time by an angry brunette stomping into her tent.

“Clarke! Wake up already, I need you to yell at Jasper! You won’t believe what he—Oh.”

Bellamy groans, recognizing his sister’s voice and quickly moves to grab the blankets to help cover Clarke, which she quickly tucks around herself and buries her face into the pillow.

“O, get out,” Bellamy grits out.

“You can’t tell me to leave. It’s Clarke’s tent,” she retorts and Bellamy curses.

Clarke sighs in defeat, knowing there’s no getting out of this now. She’s never wished harder for a cabin with a lock on the door more than she has now in this moment.

“Octavia,” she starts, slightly muffled by the blanket. “Can you please handle it and come back later?”

There is only silence for a moment or two, the tension filling the air as quickly as the draft blows inside.

“So much for you saying you weren’t going to get him anything for Christmas,” she teases and Clarke lets out a groan of frustration into her pillow.

“ _ Octavia. Leave.”  _ Bellamy snaps.

“Whatever. I guess I’ll just give you your present later. Bye, Clarke!”

And then she’s suddenly gone and Clarke wishes she could just stay under the blankets and not have to deal with any sort of judgement today, whether it’s from Octavia, the whole camp, or Bellamy himself.

“She’s gone now. Coast is clear,” he tells her, his hand resting on and gently rubbing her slightly exposed shoulder. 

“Your sister is a menace.”

Bellamy snorts. “Don't I know it. I can talk to her later, if you want.”

She shakes her head and finally uncovers enough of her face that she can see him properly.

How does he still look so handsome first thing in the morning? It’s not fair: the way his curls just fall so perfectly and his skin dusted with freckles and a slight blush, not to mention how soft his lips still look. She figures she must look like a mess at this point so early in the morning.

“No, it’s fine. I know she’s harmless. But it does suck knowing that half the camp probably already knows what she saw.”

“It sucks?” he asks, his brow creasing.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s none of their business.”

“Oh. Right.”

“And you probably don’t want it to get out. I’m not exactly the fun and popular leader around here. It was just the moonshine.”

Even as she says it, she can’t help but feel a pang in her chest. Of course it was the moonshine. Just a one-time thing. There’s no way it would have happened otherwise, right? Of course not. Bellamy was just her infuriatingly handsome and hardheaded co-leader.

Bellamy doesn’t answer right away, instead moving to lay on his back and look toward the ceiling of her tent.

“Just the moonshine, then?”

Why was he making it a question? 

“Isn’t that what it was, for you?”

The tension in her tent is almost as thick as it was the night before, but she feels as though her stomach is twisted in a knot of dread this time. 

“Not exactly.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“Bellamy…”

“It’s just...I’m not sure how to explain it, alright? But all I know is that as soon as you brought up the whole Christmas idea the only thing that was on my mind for days is what I could get you for a gift. And it was driving me crazy.”

He wipes his hands over his face as he explains, clearly exasperated. “I even almost forgot that I had to get Octavia something because I just wanted to make sure yours was taken care of. So no, it wasn’t  _ just  _ the moonshine, Clarke.”

She feels frozen in place beside him in the cot, her eyes wide as she takes in what he says. He wanted to get her a gift. He was actually  _ worried  _ about it. The same way she was worried about getting him one.

“I was worried about getting you one, too,” she admits softly, and she sees him quirk an eyebrow as he glances over at her. “I wanted to make sure you finally got something you wanted, because you never ask for anything. All you do is give to everyone around here. Even me. I didn’t really see it at first, but it’s true. So, um...maybe it wasn’t just the moonshine for me, either.”

She looks toward the edge of the blanket now, feeling more incredibly vulnerable over saying the words more than the fact that she was actually naked under said blanket.

She’s never done this before. Even back in the early days of the dropship when she and Finn were briefly infatuated with each other. 

“You mean that?”

She nods and she can see the beginning of a smirk on his lips.

“So does that mean it would be alright if I kissed you again? And maybe from time to time after that? It was nice.”

“Nice?” She asks, smiling now as she feels that little shred of hope blossoming in her chest again. “I thought yesterday you said it was just ‘not bad’?”

“I didn’t want you to get conceited.”

She grins then, tipping his face toward her before kissing him soundly on the lips. It turns out she kind of loves the moan he lets out in response. 

“Jerk.”

“Merry Christmas, Clarke.”

“Merry Christmas, Bellamy.”


End file.
